


breath to a candle whose flame won't burn

by businessirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Camping, Coming Out, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Pining Sirius Black, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/businessirius/pseuds/businessirius
Summary: The marauders go camping and Remus and Sirius share a tent. It goes downhill from there.The title is from Chamber by Amber Run. Also strong Welcome to Japan by The Strokes and Hit Me Up by Omar Apollo vibes - it's a mess!
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	breath to a candle whose flame won't burn

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even like /reading/ smutty one-shots, but this vision came to me on an early morning insomnia fueled by mosquitoes and gay yearning, and I had to get it out my system. Rejoice in it!

It’s well past midnight, and inside their tent is over 30ºC, and there are about five mosquitoes flying around.

Sirius itches all over and can’t sleep because of the buzzing sound. He doesn’t even try to take his mind off it, because he knows it will wander to Remus hopping inside the shower with him a couple hours ago, claiming hot water in the campsite runs out quickly.

Hot water had already run out, and they took a cold shower together, all of Sirius’ mental power focused on keeping his gaze on Remus’ face, not even glance lower. Remus wiped a trail of shampoo that was going down Sirius’ forehead with his thumb, and their chests brushed when he reached for the shower gel. Sirius held his breath both times.

That’s certainly something that straight mates do, shower together. Remus didn’t overstep any lines. Sirius did, by focusing too much on the way he blinked to shake the droplets of water off his long eyelashes, or the way such droplets looked trickling down his jaw.

He’s thought of nothing else since.

He’s bitten again, the tingling from the back of his knee spreading to the back of his thigh. He glances at Remus, who’s sleeping with his back turned, mouths an apology without meaning it, and turns out the little lantern they had hung up.

He takes a while to pinpoint any of the mosquitoes, but when he does, he reaches for one of his flip-flops and kills it promptly.

“Man of the hour” Remus mumbles hoarsely and Sirius turns to look at him, laying down, honey eyes drowsy and barely open, raspberry lips sleep-swollen, golden hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, scarred chest exposed. Sirius’ heart hammers against his chest.

“How many do you think there is?”

“About thirty-two”

Remus helps Sirius scatter the tent with his eyes, pointing out when he sees a mosquito, following it with his finger only to lose it a few seconds afterwards. It takes them about half an hour to kill another one.

“Take that, motherfucker” Remus mumbles, and Sirius laughs.

“Fuck not being able to use magic until you’re seventeen”

“Would you Avada Kedavra them?” Remus asks and Sirius simply nods, and then spots a mosquito right in front of him and catches it with a clap of his hands “That was quite sexy. Three down, twenty-nine to go”

Between eighteen missed attempts and Remus mumbled encouraging messages, Sirius manages to kill another three. They listen for a while and detect no buzzing.

Sirius scratches the crook of his elbow and cracks his neck, “I’m trashed. Wormtail can’t row for shit”

“I doubt it. Both me and Prongs did a great job and you still got there faster”

“Because I’m the canoeing king and I never lose” Sirius says matter-of-factly and Remus snorts.

Remus sits up and reaches for his calamine lotion, applying it on a spot on his side. He catches Sirius staring, and quirks an amused eyebrow, “Want some?”

Sirius nods and holds out his hand, but Remus waves it off and gestures for Sirius to let him apply it, so Sirius points out to the bug bite in the crook of his elbow instead.

Remus spreads the lotion and Sirius extends his other arm, where the sting on his wrist is evident, as he thinks this is typical stupid Sirius behavior, knowing the more he is touched the more he wants to touch, and still holding out yearning skin for Remus to play with.

Remus leans on him to reach the bite on his ankle, and then on the back of his knee. Sirius sighs with relief at that one and Remus gently massages it with two fingers, before moving to the one on Sirius’ thigh and massaging it as well, the same steady pressure.

In vain, Sirius tries to think about Slughorn, and James’ back hair, and the portrait of his aunt Marie-Ange in front of his room, but despite his efforts, he can still feel himself growing in his boxers. He glances at Remus, hoping it maybe went unnoticed, only to find his gaze fixed in his evident erection. Sirius itches all over, and decides he prefers mosquitoes over lust and embarrassment.

“I should go check Wormtail and Prongs, they are probably struggling with mosquitoes too” Sirius’ voice comes out surprisingly paused and steady for someone who just had their most repressed urges found out big time, but he is yet to find the motor coordination to get up and leave.

“You should stay. I could help you out with that” Remus voice is equally paused and steady, but a few octaves deeper, as he stretches his hand and gets his thumb underneath the hem of Sirius’ boxers.

One wouldn’t need heightened hearing capacities to hear Sirius’ heart drumming.

He only nods, unable to find his voice, and Remus brushes his knuckles against the print of his cock, gently, barely there, a couple times, until Sirius can’t fight it anymore and whimpers pathetically. Remus cups it with his open palm, squeezes tentatively, sizes it up, and it takes Sirius wailing his name for him to spit on his hand and finally reach inside Sirius’ boxers.

He works him slowly, and Sirius drops his head on Remus’ shoulder, inhaling sweat and eucalyptus and dark chocolate. He wants to press his lips on the soft skin there, sink his teeth into the tanned freckles, but he doesn’t know if he can, maybe this is also something straight mates do, help out their friends with their poorly timed boners, so he just breathes heavily against his neck.

When he asks him to go faster, Remus only tightens his grip, keeping the same steady, slow rhythm, strong strokes making Sirius eyelids’ flutter and his throat make the most embarrassing sounds. Desperate, and so close, he grabs Remus’ by the nape of his neck and trusts into his hand, twice, and with Remus cursing under his breath, he only manages to warn him when he’s already spurting all over Remus’ hand and naked stomach.

Remus lets go of him almost immediately, and rushes to clean himself up, breaking the silence that fell between them with a shaky “I’m not-”

Sirius feels so small.

“That’s alright” Sirius assures. In his fantasies, Remus licks his dirty hand, or even touches himself with it. In real life, he says he’s not gay, “I am, though”

Remus snaps his head to look at him, eyes widen. He can count with one single hand the amount of times he had seen Remus Lupin surprised, and he can’t believe this is one of them when he had just gotten him off, “Really?”

Sirius nods, and reaches for his sweatpants.

“Both boys and girls, or only boys?” he asks unsurely, treading lightly, regarding Sirius like he is a stranger.

“I’m not sure about girls” Sirius confesses “Sometimes I think I like them, sometimes I think I don’t. But boys, yes. Definitely”

Remus stays quiet for a long time. Sirius feels himself growing smaller, and almost regrets telling him, but he knows it was inevitable, and he tells himself that if Remus stops touching him it’s for the best. He wouldn't have done it if he had known, and dealing with such fact will be easier without them leaning on each other on the Common room floor, or climbing up one another’s beds when they can’t sleep, or hooking their ankles when they’re studying in the library.

“I should sleep somewhere else” Sirius says and actually makes a move to leave this time, but Remus’ grabs him by his forearm before he can.

“No, no, don’t be ridiculous” Remus shakes his head as he lets his arm go and Sirius twists his mouth, nervous “I’m just, uh, surprised. I don’t have a problem with it. It doesn’t change a thing”

It’s not what Sirius wanted to hear and above everything it sounds fake, but he forces a smile anyway. Remus mirrors it, just as tight.

“Spooning?” Remus asks, turning the lamp off and laying down on his side.

“It already feels like we’re inside an oven, mate” Sirius says as he turns and lays on his front, folded arms pillowing his head, turned to the other side, because he can’t afford to look at Remus right now, let alone have him pressed up against his back, his warm breath on his neck and the fingers that just got him off sprawled against his stomach. He’s pretty sure this is not something straight mates usually do, cuddle with their friend who just came all over their hands and then came out, no matter how well-intentioned it is.

“Does anyone else know?” Remus asks after a little while, voice soft and charged with sleep.

“No” Sirius lies, and then, because it’s dark and he’s not facing him “Well, Thomas Saggerson”

Sirius hears a heavy exhale when Remus understands the implications of what he just said, “The keeper?”

He hums in confirmation.

“Doesn’t he ride a Cleansweep Five?”

“Yeah?” it comes out as half a snort half a whimper.

“What kind of asshole rides a Cleansweep Five?”

Sirius furrows his eyebrows. He can’t make sense of what he had just been asked (it’s hard to make sense of anything that isn’t the knot on his stomach tightening).

“What do you even know about brooms, Remus?” 

“I like your Moontrimmer” he says simply.

Sirius doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing, but neither does Remus. For a while, he stays awake and wishes for Remus to say something, anything. He finds his voice rather soothing, especially when they’re in the dark, especially when they’re alone, even when the wounds he’s softening were inflicted by him. Maybe it’s the accent.

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them there’s traces of sunlight, but he doubts he slept for more than five minutes. He turns his head to look at Remus, his long eyelashes casting shadows down his cheeks, the subtle freckles that only exist in the warmer months, the wisp of facial hair between his nose and his mouth, parted, the scar that goes from the left corner of his lips to the curve of Remus’ jaw. No trace of wrinkles from worrying nor from laughing, his countenance of absolute resting, so godlike it makes Sirius’ hands tremble, itching to touch. If last night changed a couple things for Sirius, this certainly wasn’t one of them.

Sirius scoots closer, careful to not make any noise, and laying there, on his side, only a few inches away, he can smell it, the dark chocolate and the eucalyptus and the dry sweat, and he wishes he could drown himself in it. He can also hear a mosquito humming, and focus on it so he doesn’t listen to the sound of his own heart breaking.


End file.
